Disclaimer: All the characters belong tothe creators of the show. I promise to return them in pristine condition.

Thanks to iluvroadrunner for the quick beta!

SURROGACY

"Ow. Son of a biiitch."

As much as he cared to admit, he needed to stop this. Barely covering thirty meters of Strawberry Fields, Donald Flack, Jr. never thought he could cuss so much in his life.

I used to cover two miles easy, he thought as he gingerly bent over to catch his breath. He never thought he got this out of shape since his confinement more than a month ago. He had been released two weeks before, and the first thing he thought of doing was getting some sense of normalcy back in his life. He had been warned not to push himself just because he was getting out of the hospital, but Flack couldn't resist testing the rules a little.

He shuffled to a nearby bench and sat carefully, feeling the tug at his side. He decided to give in for now, or he'll take a cab the rest of the way home.

Flack didn't really know what possessed him to take a jog around the area. He missed the city, he supposed, taking in the sights around him. He fished out his water bottle and took slow swallows, still looking about.

His wandering gaze fell on a guy obviously in a hurry on his way to work. Flack mentally groaned. The man must be out of his mind to walk this way, dressed as spiffy as he was: from his slick helmet of hair, down to his Italian shoes, he was a thief magnet. He just as well should have worn a sign saying "Mug me". He idly wondered if he got stuck in the rush hour traffic and thought of walking the rest of the way. Bad, bad move if the guy asked him.

Sure enough, a quick movement off the man's right, a figure burst out of his cover, gun trained at the business suit. They exchanged a few words Flack couldn't catch, then voices were raised even as the suit offered his briefcase to the mugger. The perp was shaking his head, taking aim.

The detective in him took quick stock of the situation. The perp was clearly not after the money. Something was definitely going down if he didn't do anything.

Flack didn't even think twice as he went reached for his ankle holster. It was a good thing he was always packing heat. "Hey!"

He quickly dove for cover behind a trash bin as the shot rang a few inches from him. Too damn close! He was definitely losing his touch. He was about to identify himself when a familiar shout of "NYPD!" came from a distance. He chanced a peek and saw a patrol officer with his gun drawn.

"He's got a gun!" Flack yelled out a warning, if the gunshot was not a giveaway enough; one can't be too sure.

He heard an oath from where the mugger was, then another shot was fired. This time, it found a target when he heard a cry.

Flack's stomach lurched. He didn't hear the uniform call out another warning...

His own weapon out, he stood and faced the perp. The guy, roughly around his late twenties, used the suit as a shield, his gun at the man's head.

"Don't be stupid, man," Flack warned, casting a quick glance where the patrol had fallen. Seeing him move was a positive sign. But who knows how much time he has.

The perp darted nervous glances at Flack and the fallen officer. "It didn't have to be this way," he cried, waving the gun in the downed cop's direction. "He got in the way."

Sure. Blame the cops. How convenient.

"You. Help him," Flack called out to a frozen passerby close to the wounded officer. "Do it!"

The poor woman fixed haunted eyes at him, before nodding nervously as she moved to comply.

"Try stopping the bleeding," Flack commanded in a milder tone. He felt rather than saw the woman nod her head again.

Tightening his grip on his gun, Flack tried to reason with the man.

"Relax, buddy. Like you said, it doesn't have to end this way." He slowly edged out of his hiding place in an attempt to cover the distance between him and his fallen comrade.

The motion only made perp tense up and tighten his hold on his victim.

Flack paused. "What's y'name, pal?" he asked casually.

"Why should I tell you?" His face was contorted in a mixture of fear and frustration.

The detective gave a light shrug. "Oh, I dunno. Usually ask that when I'm in the getting-to-know-you stage."

"Don't mess with me, asshole," his voice held a shrill warning.

Flack put up a hand. "Hey. I just wanted to know you, man. No harm in that, huh?"

"This is none of your business, pal," the perp shot back. "Just turn around, and take care of him." He nodded to the officer he shot.

"Well, you got me at a disadvantage here," Flack pointed out. "Let him go, and then I'll oblige ya."

He shook his head in obvious defiance. "Not until I got what I came for."

This time Flack was also shaking his head. "Don't do it, man..." He lowered slightly, sighting the guy down his gun. No clear shot.

The man was starting to back away slowly, still taking his hostage with him. This time, the suit decided to struggle from his grip. The guy had a few good inches over his captor, and broader shoulders to boot. Still, it wasn't a good reason to test your luck.

"Quit squirming, you fucking s--"

He was cut off with an elbow to the ribs, making him loosen his hold. The suit saw his chance, and broke free from his captor. The perp was about to shoot the man as Flack made the shot, clipping the perp on his shooting arm.

The minute the gun flew from his hand, the perp scrambled to run.

"Hey!" Ah, jeez... It was just what he needed!

He quickly strode to the writhing patrolman. "Buddy, you still with us?" he asked as he struggled with the radio on the other's belt clip. He was rewarded with an agonized groan.

"Ma'am, please stay with him. Backup's on the way," he assured her, before sprinting after the perp.

"This is Det. Donald Flack. I have an officer down at Strawberry Fields, and am in pursuit of a suspect," he radioed in. "Request for backup..."

As Flack guessed, the wound has slowed his quarry, but not by much. He gritted against the increasingly burning sensation in his torso that threatened to tear him in half, and spurred on.

He caught sight of his man as he ducked to a side street. Already laboring in his breathing, Flack followed suit.

He thought he collided with a wall as he rounded the corner, but found himself being hauled to the side of the building, knocking air out of him. Then a knee connected to his stomach, making him cry out in pain. He was seeing stars behind closed lids, and felt himself slipping to the pavement.

Breathe. I need to breathe—

It hurt too much to take in even the smallest amount of air, but he couldn't get the heaviness off his chest even as he struggled to push it away. The lack of oxygen was making him feel disoriented that he gave up standing.

Maybe if he lay still for a couple of seconds, the pain would go away...

... and in the next conscious moment, he was breathing easily once more. But something slick and cool was covering his face. He tried to swipe it away.

"Bad idea, Flack," he heard a voice say, just as a hand stopped his from taking the offending thing that was in his face.

It took a few seconds before Flack was able to associate the voice with its owner. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"Stel?" He was confused. What was she doing here? A blurry figure came to his line of vision. Squeezing his eyes to refocus, the sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach returned when he recognized the newcomer.

His hand was on the oxygen mask again, slipping it from his face. "Am I going to detention again?" he asked, glancing at them both.

Stella Bonasera crossed her arms. "Cute. How very perceptive of you," she answered evenly, but her eyes betrayed her amusement. Of his retort or his situation, Flack couldn't tell.

"Wh... who called you in?" That damned sinking feeling just wouldn't go away. Not good at all.

"Oh, we happened to be in the area," Stella supplied breezily, "then we happened to see you just zip past us without even a hello."

She gave him a warm smile. Flack learned never to give in to her frighteningly disarming smile. A smile she used when dealing with a suspect.

"Flack, what were you thinking?" It was Mac Taylor's turn to ask, with a reproving shake of his head.

"I thought I'd take a little jog around the park--"

"Little jog?" Stella's brows quirked up as she smiled again, a challenging tone in her voice.

Flack winced at the slip. "Well, I wanted to get some air, so I thought of going out," he began, clearing his throat. "Then this kid popped out of nowhere and threatened the guy. A uniform happened to pass by, but he failed to control the situation. What else can I do?" He looked pleadingly at the CSIs.

Stella didn't reply, but looked on to Mac.

"Call for back-up and let them chase the suspect?" Mac suggested hopefully. "That's the most logical thing to do under the circumstances, don't you think?"

Flack sighed softly. "I did. Mac, I'm fine. I could've handled the perp..."

Mac's frown deepened. "That's not what this tells me," he answered with a wave of his hand. "Don..."

Flack stiffened slightly at the use of his name. This usually meant Mac wanted to get his attention. His full attention.

"... you just got released from the hospital. You need some time before things can get back to normal."

"Too much too soon. I know that," Flack responded with a slow nod, echoing the doctor's words to him. As he can recall, Mac was there, too, when he was released from the hospital.

"Are you breathing all right now?" the older detective solicitously inquired.

He noticed Mac's changing the subject and not letting this matter stretch longer than necessary. Flack appreciated it for giving him the chance to escape.

"Yeah, I'm good." He looked directly at Mac, hoping the underlying meaning of his words sink in. Yeah, he's good for now. And he'll cope.

Flack tried to ease himself up to a sitting position, but Stella's hand stilled him.

"Not so fast, cowboy," she admonished when he swayed slightly, pushing him gently back to the gurney. "For being such a good boy, you're going for a ride." Her infernal grin widened.

It was then Flack finally took a real look around, and realized that he was already inside the ambulance. "You're shitting me," he let out with a groan, eyes imploring at his colleagues. "I'm telling you guys, I'm all good." He looked from one to the other helplessly. "Stella, Mac..."

Both seemed to ponder it for what seemed like the better part of an hour, looking thoughtfully at each other.

"Guys, please..."

It might have been the wheedling that made them give in, because they turned to face him, the decision reached.

"We can offer you a ride to the hospital, if you promise never to pull a stunt like this again?" Stella proposed.

A smirk found its way to his lips. "Can't make a cop make that kind of promise now, can you?"

Mac gave an exasperated sigh. "Flack..."

He raised both hands. "Okay, okay. You got me. I'll... do my best. Fair enough?"

Mac looked like he seriously considered his offer. "I suppose that will do."

Flack smiled in his thanks.

"I suppose it would be easy to do," Stella piped in, her charming smile back in full, "seeing that your badge is under our custody." She waved his badge at him with a victorious little grin. Why, the little minx!

Before Flack could reach out in a vain attempt to retrieve his shield, Stella tossed it over to Mac, who pocketed it while stifling a grin of his own.

"This stays with me till you're in the clear," Mac stated. "So until then," he trained his full gaze at him, "try to enjoy your vacation while you can."

He looked from one to the other. They can't confiscate his badge... can they? He was shaking his head at them, only to be returned with a nod from both.

"You guys are ruthless, you know that?" Flack couldn't help but blurt out.

Mac cocked his head slightly to the side in acknowledgment. "We do our best," he no longer tried to hide his amusement. "Thacker will take your statement, and then you can ride with us to Trinity. Do we have a deal?"

Flack stared numbly at them, speechless.

"Don?"

"Yeah, I heard ya," he acknowledged grudgingly, thankful that he was now allowed to sit up from the gurney. Stella's hand was quickly on his shoulder, and Flack gave a nod of assurance, patting her hand.

"Wait for us in the SUV when you're done here, 'kay?" Stella instructed him.

With a slow melodramatic sigh, Flack replied, "Yes, Ma."

He didn't think Stella would take offense at his jibe, but she didn't have to ruffle his hair the way she just did. Mac merely looked on, clearly enjoying himself.

Flack shot them a withered smile as they walked away to their crime scene. He followed them with his eyes until Det. Thacker showed up.

He didn't like the smarmy grin his fellow detective was wearing. Flack was ready to throw the oxygen mask in the other's face if he so uttered a snide remark. He turned to look in the direction Flack's eyes were on.

"Parents let you off lightly this time?" His dancing eyes rested on Flack.

He changed his mind about chucking the mask. He was too tired to keep up, anyway. "Shuddup, Thacker. Get to work."

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